In Consequence

NINE


Riddick heard her stirring, registered the fact, and went back to prepping for the launch. After the idiot doctor had finished rigging her with the implant and other amenities he’d arranged, Riddick had installed her in his bed and checked her over more thoroughly.

The implant was a fertility suppressant. For three years, though her hormone levels would remain close enough to normal to keep her from growing a beard, her reproductive cycle would remain completely ineffective. Basically, the implant sent it into suspended animation. Once the three years were up, the implant would be flushed out with her first period.

But that was a whole three years away.

The ‘amenities’ he ordered were basic health boosters. When she got sick so suddenly, it scared him more than he liked to admit. No amount of first aid or cold showers would be enough if she were to get so extremely sick again. He had been lucky that she just got a simple virus that first time. Though there were no random germs floating around in deep space, he didn’t want to take any chances. Whenever they docked, she could be exposed to anything. It didn’t help that living in the sterility required by space travel would most likely weaken her immune system.

Jack would have some pain for a few days while her body adjusted to the foreign object inside. The doctor had given her some painkillers, but Riddick didn’t want to medicate her unless it was absolutely necessary. He didn’t want her so miserable that it would make her insane, but a little pain never hurt anybody. He’d wait and see how bad it got.

~*~

Jack was in agony.

It was like every cramp from every period she’d ever gotten in her whole life joined forces and slammed into her, wave after wave, at the same time. Sometimes she felt like throwing up. Other times she wanted to throw things and take it all out on anything in her path. And there were times that it was all she could do to lie back, bite her lips together, and try not to cry from the pain.

When she opened her eyes for the first time, she had been expecting a clinical, impersonal room similar to a hospital room. Instead, she was remotely surprised to find herself in Riddick’s bed. It was more comfortable than her own, but she couldn’t imagine Riddick caring about something so very inconsequential as her personal comfort. No, there had to be a reason.

When the pain first got to the point that she was grinding her teeth hard enough to make her think she would shake them right out of her skull, Riddick came in, gave her two white pills, said, “Go to sleep,” and walked out without another word.

Sleep had been a blessed jewel to her, something to be cherished and treasured. She fell into its embrace with more relief than she thought was possible.

For two days, he had been administering the pain medication. She had been eating, but only when he brought her food. She almost couldn’t bear to use the head.

On the third day after the procedure, Riddick withheld the first pill. Jack was furious. “You’re a fucking sadistic bastard,” she’d yelled at him from the bed. “Why do you want me to hurt so badly? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Riddick had stared at her. She didn’t know what he would do, but at that point, she was hurting so badly that she didn’t care. She just knew that she needed a pill, and Riddick was keeping her from her little white capsules of heaven. She couldn’t stand it.

“Want a pill, Jack?” Riddick taunted. “If you want them, you need to get them your own damn self. I’m not pampering you anymore. Doc said you’d be fine in two days. This is day three. Get your ass up and out of that fucking bed.”

Jack hadn’t moved. She had only glared at him. The meaning had taken its time in sinking in, but once it did… ooh. She ground her teeth together and tried not to scream at him again.

He walked out of his room without another word, leaving her there to suffer. Oh yeah—now I remember why I hate him. He’s an asshole.

~*~

His girl heaved herself out of the bed and into the head. Riddick didn’t smile, but then, he never did. He was pleased, though. She was stronger than she gave herself credit for.

When she emerged from the head, she staggered to the main cabin. “Lights to twenty percent,” Riddick said off-handedly. If he were the sort to smile, he would have smiled at her as she blinked owlishly at him. He found it amusing, to say the least.

Might have to get you a shine job one of these days, Jackie-girl, he mused, thinking about how much more convenient life would be. But no—the darkness was one weapon he would always have. It was an unconquerable wall that lay between them, and he was in no hurry to break it down. It was the one method guaranteed to keep her firmly under control.

“I want a pill,” she croaked at him without preamble.

“No,” he said simply, and went back to his pushups.

“Yes,” she argued stubbornly. “I hurt. I hurt so bad.”

“Toughen up, Jack,” he said, being sure to inject a severe note of disdain into his voice. “Get over it. It was just an outpatient procedure. You’re fine.”

And she was. He knew the difference between true pain and psychosomatic trauma. She hurt because she thought she should hurt, because he withheld her dose. Those painkilling drugs were highly addictive, and he knew firsthand what kind of shit happened with addicts. He saw it all the time in Slam. The only thing he wanted her dependant on was him, and he was damned if he let his power be usurped by a little white pill.

“You said I could have one if I got it myself. Where are they?” she asked, her voice coming dangerously close to a whine.

Riddick kept a firm reign on his temper. “Jettisoned them,” he replied shortly. They were in his pocket. “And if I hear you bitch one more time, you’ll regret it,” he warned her. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about your little stunt in the waiting room.”

Jack looked honestly surprised. “Why? What did I do?” she asked, looking confused.

She really has no idea what she did wrong, he realized. Well, in many ways, that was the biggest problem of all. She needed to take him literally.

“I told you not another word, and what did you do?” he asked, moving to one arm and continuing his pushups. Without waiting for a reply, he answered himself, “You kept talking. ‘What’s going to happen to me?’” he mocked cruelly. “'Riddick, don’t hurt me.’ Fuck that. You disobeyed me, Jack. We’ll deal with it in a few days, once you’ve fully recovered.”

He switched arms, hoping she would take the hint and get out of the cabin. He didn’t want to get angry with her. At the moment, he was just irritated. He didn’t want it to escalate. He didn’t want to hurt her, and if he allowed himself to get angry, really angry with her, that’s what would happen. He had an idea of what her punishment would be, and how he needed to administer it. Losing control and beating her now would do nothing but damage to the fragile bond he had crafted between them.

He’d heard about the true Master/slave bond. It always followed the same pattern—tenuous at first, growing stronger and more unshakeable as time passed and promises were kept. That was what he wanted for them. A bond. He didn’t want a puppet. He wanted to care about something, and he needed to possess that which he cared for. He always had. Proprietary ownership. If he could link with any living thing, it would be her.

The trick was making it mutual. At this point he was still gaining her trust.

He heard her walk out of the cabin and crawl back in bed. In a few hours, he’d get her moving again. Her body was still adjusting to the implant. It was no wonder she was exhausted. Her entire hormonal chemistry was reconfiguring itself. It took a lot out of a person.

He rolled onto his back and began his sit-ups.

~*~

Two days later, Jack felt as close to fine as she thought she’d ever get again. Riddick hadn’t hurt her. He’d been a total jackass, sure. She hadn’t had access to another pill. She’d had to lie there and suffer. But he hadn’t hurt her. She still hated him, though.

Then the food-prep machine had been put to work. She smelled steak. Rich, perfectly-done steak. And bread. Hell, he was making a fucking feast out there.

She made sure the ties from the hospital gown were still secure. It was amazing to her that he hadn’t removed it, but she didn’t care at that point. She was hungry. Starving.

She had walked out of the room with surprising steadiness, but she attributed it to the prospect of real food. When she came to the main cabin, though, there was Riddick, eating a steak. The only steak.

“Where’s mine?” Jack asked plaintively.

“Oh, you’ve rejoined the land of the living. Hungry, I take it?” Riddick’s voice was mocking. She hated it when he spoke like that.

“Yes… please.” The 'please' was nothing more than an afterthought. She was still aware of the fact that she had no power, but it didn’t hurt to be polite. Maybe it would get her fed.

Instead, her captor’s only response was, “Go take a shower.”

Jack gaped at him, but even as she opened her mouth to retaliate, she realized that the prospect of a shower—a hot, long shower—sounded delicious. Still, she had to argue. She had to keep up a front… right?

Riddick cut her off. “If you don’t want to take a shower, whatever. But you won’t get fed. I reprogrammed the food-prep machine. It only accepts a certain code. Now listen up, little one. You are fine. Stop bitching about how horrible your life is. Nobody has hurt you. You went to the doctor. You got an implant. Your body adjusted. Now you’re all better, even if you don’t realize it. Start taking care of yourself, and you’ll have access to the food again. You won’t take care of yourself, I’ll have to. That means that I decide when you get fed. I decide what you eat. I decide where and when you sleep.” He took another bite of steak. Jack couldn’t help but notice the way the juice dripped from the fork onto his plate. Her mouth watered.

“You’re not going anywhere, Jackie. You’re mine. We both know that. But I’m prepared to give you little freedoms like that. The catch is that you’ve got to earn them... which means getting off your ass and sucking it up. Now.” He looked at her, and she imagined that she could see the glint of his evil—evil? No. Impenetrable, yes, but not evil. Not anymore. She didn’t know why her attitude toward him shifted like it had, but she couldn’t deny it. He didn’t seem evil to her anymore. Royally fucked up, yes. Crazy, even. But he hadn’t actually damaged her.

She imagined that she could see the mercury glint of his eyes through his goggles, and imagined further that his eyes were boring into hers. She couldn’t seem to move.

His words finally penetrated her daze. “—take a shower and get back here. And don’t you dare put any clothes on. You know the rule by now, I hope. You’re not stupid.”

She blinked at him as his words sunk home. Shower. Right. Take care of herself. Okay. She could do that.

“We’ll talk about what happened in the waiting room once you’ve eaten,” he added as she turned to obey. The calmness of her detachment shattered. She had almost forgotten about that. Oh, no.